In the Hands of the Enemy
by Ujon Nocturne
Summary: -AU- A dreadful disease that kills alchemists spread, and humonculi of new intelligence awaken to get revenge. The state-alchemists rebel, but the enemies threaten that a new weapon has awaken. Then a girl with no memory appears. Detailed Sum. Inside


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**In the Hands of the Enemy**

Disclaimer:Fullmetal Alchemist and anything related to it are not mine. Any similarities with others and others' own creations/possessions are unintended and completely coincidental.

Copyright © Ujon 2oo8:This plot belongs completely to me and only me. Names of original characters, events and locations or anything unassociated with Fullmetal Alchemist, or any other manga/anime, belong to me. Please do not use them without my permission.

Author's Notes:**I've d****ecided to proof-read the whole of the prologue, since I realized the first part was left unedited for a whole two years already. **Hope it's somewhat better now.

This fiction is tagged as AUminor, since only the facts that a few unwelcome guests are still alive, timeline is different, and the physical attributes of the Elric Brothers might be somewhat changed. There will also be a tinge of futuristic items/atmospheres and such, but even these will be on a minor scale. This fiction basically revolves around an original character under my ownership, so here, she will be a vital character. Many other characters we might not know completely, since we haven't finished all of I directories yet, but I shall do my best to do so.

**G E N R E **Action / Mystery **S U B G E N R E ** Romance / Drama

**Summary****:**

During the cold nights of _their_ wake… _they _hunger, _they _lust, _they _feed, and _we_ pay the price. The living creatures of the sins _we_ have committed have come back to get us. They have become more aware. More complications have risen, and it has become nearly impossible to rid of them for the heart of alchemy is slowly fading away.

Alchemists all over the world are dying, fading away as their own ability does. A disease that plagued the alchemists threatened to destroy their existence, threatening to impose an attack that might permanently eliminate their race. Some survivors who remain aware still fight to rid of the disease; they claimed to be responsible for the deaths and thus they held the responsibility of restoring the peace they once had before. Dangerous things occurred among the towns that sheltered alchemist blood: deaths, bloodshed—_murders_ too ruthless to describe.

The prodigy alchemist, Fullmetal, now eighteen years of age but still lacking a pair of fleshy limbs has gained a higher rank in the State Government. Edward has also made his way to the higher ups of the underground alchemists association, _Panaquea_. Alphonse has returned himself, more human than before, but still not completely himself. Now on a new and much more dangerous quest to eliminate the _Children of Genesis,_ an underground organization that is being suspected as the root of the disease, the brothers find themselves stuck with new companions and tasks harder than even before. That's when _she_ suddenly came along.

And as it turns out… _whether they live through this quest or not lies in the hands of the __**enem**__y. _Life or death—everything has become a game.

Prologue

"_He's dead…_"

In the dark, the girl's feet dragged her down an unseen path, carrying her body in a fashion such that she appeared to be nothing more than a doll. Her body moved not at her will, but rather, it felt as if hundreds of thousands of threads were moving every inch of her frail body—like a puppet.

Though as she walked here—in this emptiness—it actually felt more like floating. For a long time, it seemed as if there would be nothing but the emptiness, the void where no sound, no warmth, and no light could enter. There was only this cold: a numbing cold that dulled the senses and left only room for the feeling of pain by that biting chill.

In time, the child came to wonder, why am I here? Such a sweet, innocent thing to wonder. She was such a child, not even wondering why she had not a name to claim for her own. Such a lonely child, trapped for so long in the empty void. All alone, and without the slightest shred of life left in her.

But all that was—of-course,—until she found that the blackness was not all there was to it. Well, what do you know? The puppeteer carrying her limbs wasn't so useless after all, for now in the deep pools of red in her eyes could be seen a small, grey spec.

Then again, whatever could be so special about a spec? For all she knew, it was probably just dust caught in the wind. Although, that was hardly possible, since wind never once blew into that dark, solitary place.

_It's not just dust, you know_, said a playful voice—the voice of a girl. Another child? Was there someone else stuck here with her after all? _No, nothing of the sort. Nevermind me! Just look at that grey, look closely._

Obedient, the nameless child did as she was told. And that's when she noticed. The realization was so sudden she almost staggered back. The closer it got, the bigger it became, and the clearer the image turned as the true form of the spec revealed.

_A wall. _One could almost see the smile on the other girl's voice. It was a dull, grey wall.

_It is nothing but a wall. Why must it be so special?_

The voice did not answer her question; perhaps it couldn't read her mind like she expected? Who was that girl?

_I said nevermind me, focus on the wall!_

Again, she did as she was told, and quietly noticed that it gave off a soft glow—a glow not so different from that of the moon. _Now, when was the last time you saw it again?_

Moments ago—which probably lasted much longer than what it felt—there was no north, south, east or west for her. Just blackness and a neverending trail of silence. She was wrong. That voice had always been with her, there to virtually taunt her endlessly, so that she would not stop moving.

And then, the nameless child suddenly noticed.

Wasn't that her _own_ voice?

…_Bingo._

Oh, she _was _all alone after all. There was never any other girl. That was just her mind, doing everything in its power to keep her alive, to keep her sane. But the girl was also sure now—that voice would not be coming back. She discovered her secret, and somehow, it felt as if hearing her own mind speak to her was suddenly so impossible.

Instead, she redirected her focus towards her surroundings. Through her peripheral vision she noticed small, glimmering shards fall into the floor. Her trance was almost completely washed away now—this was not oblivion.

Either that, or everything had its end—even eternity in the dark. She always knew that there _was_ a ground. And here, at this point, it broke.

A gap lay between her and that wall. Something on its blank surface simply bewildered her, endlessly driving her into the temptation of simply… touching it. But that gap would not let her.

Her eyes felt heavy, like the pit was drawing them in and saying: _look, look over here!_ Ever so obedient, slowly, her gaze rolled down to the defragmenting ground. Voices so soft, so feathery and like chimes rang in her ears, pressing her on to forget the wall, and look at them: the illusionary shards that were so beautiful and oh so sharp.

_Yes, so that's it. An illusion. It's not really there…but… it's so… beautiful…_

"_Don't look,_" rang a voice, alarming her as she weakly jerked her head back, startled at the cold, heavy hand that laid itself on her dainty shoulders. Then she realized suddenly: it wasn't heavy at all. It was probably because… that was the only touch her skin had felt ever since she fell into this darkness.

_Hold on_. She felt something! That meant she wasn't dead. She wasn't dead after all! She wasn't alone! She was certain, this voice was not her own. She wasn't alone!

_Unalone_.

She looked towards the direction from which the voice came—which she soon found was nowhere at all. She only stared at the emptiness beside her, and could only imagine the hand on her shoulder. A slight frown rose to her face, but to even this, her body was still not accustomed to.

"What is it?" she asked his nothingness, leaving no trace of emotion in her small voice.

"_Bridge of Memories,_" he told her simply. She did not understand; there was nothing there but the defragmenting floor. And to her benefit, the boy didn't have to ask to find out what she was thinking. Simply by reading the faint, but not quite unnoticeable expression on her face, he of all people, would know.

"_You can't see it, can you? I bet you don't even understand what I meant,_" he said, sighing softly. "_The bridge of memories is literally made up of your memories. If you put your memories together without having to look into it, you will be able to cross. Otherwise, it will keep falling._"

The girl dropped her head in understanding, following the boy's train of thought. "They'll fall into nothing, until they're all gone." That meant all _those shards_ were her memories. And she was losing them all, piece by piece.

"They'll all fall," continued the girl, "until _I'm_ gone."

Quickly decided, she stepped forth, forcing herself to remember anything and everything she could. Remember the life she had that was trapped in those shards. Such a naïve attempt to be expected from a child.

Nothing.

Only _nothing_ came to her. It was as though her mind was completely wiped of her whole life. Her whole life was gone. But perhaps all that was left of it was disappearing right before her eyes, and there was nothing she could do.

Desperation urged her into thinking numerous, irrational possibilities. Like that maybe she could reach out and grab the shards below. And that she might turn into a phantom like him if she didn't take her shards back herself. Perhaps the boy was just tricking her into staying. Or he could possibly even be the one doing everything; he was the reason why she was stuck here.

The girl didn't have a single clue how she got there. There was no telling if the boy was speaking the truth, or how she even came across that person's voice. It was familiar, making her uncertain about knowing him just now. Had she spoken to him before? No, she was alone for so long, how was that possible? She was alone before, and cold, and very lonely. Now, there was this boy. And he confused her so bad that her head hurt terribly.

Wait a minute. She couldn't even see the boy! Let alone trust what he said! What if her mind was just playing tricks on her _again_? Very possible; anyone would have gone crazy if _they_ got trapped in a place of darkness, of nothingness, all alone for who knows how long. Any other person would have burst even sooner, perhaps. But then again, there was no telling of time here.

She shook her head. She had no time for that now. It hurt too much.

The girl clenched her small round fists softly, her arms trembling slightly in anxiety. Temptation then finally overcame her, and her eyes rolled down towards the gap.

Temptation of what might have been just below her had successfully overwhelmed her.

Her eyes narrowed slightly and her ears twitched at a sound of a very gentle tinkling in her ear. It was a bell-like sound, a gentle chime playing a very nostalgic, very peaceful, and very painful tune.

Apparently, it came from the small shard glimmering with spectral color that tumbled down into the deeper darkness. A small breath forcefully escaped her mouth as she felt an uneasy vertigo pulling at her insides.

A claw had grabbed her heart and pulled with murderous intent… and there was nothing she could do.

The young child began to tip over towards the pit, when an unseen arm suddenly wrapped itself around her small waist and pulled her back up. She felt warmth against her back, no longer that harsh cold of the oblivion she'd grown to know for long enough.

Almost instantly, she felt an ease come into her mind, embracing her. She felt safe in that short moment in time. Protected at long last.

"_Don't look,_" the boy softly whispered in her ear.

The boy's image slowly began to appear around her then, and he had his arms wrapped firmly around her to keep her from giving in to the pull. He was a translucent figure, not so different from a ghost. There was no trace of detail in his image whatsoever. And he was faceless, save for the small lips with which he spoke

He really was like a phantom. But she wasn't afraid.

"_You mustn't fall in there,_" he told her gently, immediately making her realize the truth of his kindness. Then, sadness rang into his voice, as slowly, quietly he murmured, "_If you do, everything he did would become a waste…_"

_Become… a waste?_

_Who?_ The girl wondered at first, but decided it was better if she didn't ask. She closed her eyes and let out an exhausted breath.

"What was that?" she asked softly, frowning as she stared straight up at the grey wall in front of them.

"_So you saw._" He sighed regretfully, resting his chin on her shoulder. "_You shouldn't have looked. You must cross without having to look down; else you see yourself falling in._"

This kicked her mind into thought, _like a mirror?_ The musical shards must have been decoys, traps that allure a captured soul—as what she coined the boy and herself—into looking long enough. And with enough time, part of them would be stolen through the glass—taken by the mirror from her side to the other side of the mirror.

That would only have made sense, for that must have been the reason why the boy came to be what he was. He was protecting her, but she had at first thought so ill of him. This phantom boy just didn't want her to have the same fate as he.

Suddenly alarmed, the girl brought her hands up before her eyes. And as she checked herself, she was still whole. _Thank goodness she was still whole_.

She felt his hair against her cheek, his arms still around her in a gentle embrace.

"_What you saw,_" he whispered difficultly, and the girl could slightly tell that he was reluctant to say what he was about to say."_Was a shard of your soul._"

His voice came out as if choking, as if blood was in his throat, refusing to let him say it. The truth of what he had said pained the child's fragile little heart, and she winced. She was intelligent and aware, but she was only a child, after all, and her heart was as of yet not strong enough. Something, though, told her otherwise.

A breath blew across her cheek. "_You must remember your memories, little girl._"

"But I…" She closed her eyes tight and bowed her head deeply; her lips slowly began to move. _"_I don't have any memories_.__"_

The warmth then suddenly started to disappear, and in its place was that cursed cold. She whimpered despite herself, turning around to find that the boy was gone completely.

"Don't go!" she cried, her voice still soft and unaccustomed to much emotion. "Please, I don't like being alone!"

There was no response. She collapsed to her knees, and blood started to rip through them, scraped by broken glass. The blood drooled towards oblivion, with the now bloodied shards of her memory.

A scream she couldn't make out echoed throughout the void, rolled over the endless darkness until it seemed as if the girl's ears would bleed. She abruptly brought her tiny little hands up to her ears, and when she opened her eyes, the wall was gone. Instead, she was sitting down in the middle of a battlefield with bloodied corpses—broken, battered and bruised—lying everywhere around her.

There was a tiny figure wrapped in dirty old sheets slashing at men in uniform—soldiers,—and then biting at their shoulders, arms and legs while it scratched out their bellies and tore the skin right off their faces. Blood flew everywhere, and not a single bullet affected the little monster even as they shot right through it. The men were screaming in anguish and fright, running away in hopes of escaping alive.

The tiny monster chased them all, hunted them down like the wild animal that it was. Just when they thought they killed it, it stood back up smoothly like its tiny little feet were nailed to the ground, and that its body was completely weightless. It laughed with a voice so small and so sweet, yet something so cruel and heartless at the same time. The cloaked creature made a sound; it licked its lips in delight. It was only then that she realized what the horrible thing was actually doing.

It was _eating _these men, and _killing _them was just for its enjoyment.

Her pupils shrunk into her head, as more horrific images flashed in front of her eyes in a speed too rapid she shouldn't have seen anything at all. But no, she saw _everything_. She _needed_ to see everything. And to her horror, the mind she possessed, which she soon found out to be incredibly bright, told her _these_ were her memories. And no matter how much she tried to deny the fact, she knew. When she was alive, when she was still awake in the consciousness of the person owning those eyes, she _knew_ that monster.

She closed her eyes, hoping they'd all just disappear. And that laughter taunted her again.

The sound, the images, they all disappeared. For once, she felt happy it was dark. Maybe she didn't want to remember after all.

She just wanted to die. She would just close her eyes, and she could sleep forever.

But no, she just couldn't do that.

"_Please, wake up Riane!_"

Riane's eyes shot open, as she woke up almost instantly to a young man's cry. He called out her name… from the back of her head? She looked around, her short, choppy hair wishing this way and that as she searched for the source of the voice.

Nothing.

The room was completely dark, despite the fact that it was already morning. Thick, black curtains decorated the walls, shielded the small girl from sunlight that would only penetrate her vision with pain. She could see nothing but her tiny little hands in the beam of sun that cut through the curtains beside her. But she could tell she was alone, and she would be able to rest in peace until further notice. She lost something very precious to her, and she would want nothing more than to find it, and take it back as quickly as possible. But for that, she needed her energy.

She closed her eyes slowly as she carefully inhaled breath, bowing her head deep, and she collapsed into her pillow, falling into a deep, deep slumber.

A tall, shady figure stood just outside the young girl's room, his sleeved arms folded across his chest, his face hidden under the shadow of his tall, black top hat and his round, gleaming glasses. He drummed his gloved fingers on his leather coat impatiently, with his long blonde hair stuck flat against the wall. The tall figure stood just beside the window to her room, which was utterly useless because of its tinted glass _plus!_ its thick, pitch black curtains. With his glasses and his shady ensemble, there was simply no way of him getting even a peek at their little target… at least, that's what his younger, much smaller companion—who appeared to be merely a little boy with his short, messy jet black hair—thought. Although his hair did appear short, it actually reached down to his shoulder blades, but was kept neatly in a strong, narrow tie with the use of a white ribbon.

The child-like figure, with his hands grasping at the edge of the window sill and attempting to peek into the black room, turned his head up to the much gloomier figure with a delightful cheeriness in his eyes. He wore what appeared to be vintage-styled attire with a royal flare: white cuffs, ruffles and all.

"The girl's awake, now," he inquired excitedly, beaming at the unmoving fellow with an innocent smile. The boy opened his eyes, which appeared to be bright and large and with a brilliant glimmer of aquamarine. "Am I wrong?"

Of-course, the older companion felt no obligation to turn to the younger one, and had instead simply cast the boy a brief side-glance.

The older man sighed, leaning his head back further against the wall. "She is," he said in monotone, his voice sounding like that of which would come from an intelligent person.

Almost instantly, the younger boy began giggling in delight, almost as if completely positive that the sleeping girl inside the room would not be woken by his sudden noise. "That's fantastic! Then I _am_ right!" he heard the boy say, followed by a clapping sound which came from the same boy clasping his hands in delight. The older man had not flinched in the slightest.

"Hmm, technically, she's asleep, but that's just fine!" The boy began excitedly, and then an inquisitive look invaded his expression with his eyes wide, shimmering with innocence as he began to ponder out loud, babbling away which caused a few nerves to pop on the older man's forehead. At that point, question marks seemed to become visible floating around the boy's head. "Then again," he said, "that would mean she isn't awake, although in a certain concept she already is awake. But that could make my previous statement incorrect, and it would rather distort Sven's reply to my question which could also have been logically incorrect. Seeing now the possible fact that she is asleep and not awake, then it can be a fact now that it would be difficult for us to—"

"Lucas," Still without disturbing his own little silence, the older man had parted his lips to speak. His tone was serious, and caused a slight change in the boy named Lucas's expression. At last, the older man opened his eyes and turned his head towards the boy, a dead serious look in his eyes that confused anger with assertiveness. Lightning flashed, and his eyes quickly disappeared completely yet again. "What are you planning to do with her?"

The boy blinked once, twice—four times, but had not said a word. Instead, Lucas turned his head back towards the closed window of the room where Riane laid aslumber. He bowed his head slightly, letting go of the window rims and pushing himself back away from it; the thunder that was to be expected from the lightning cackled overhead. The sky opened up and spears of rain rapidly showered down towards the ground, picking up speed and immediately soaking the two men standing just outside the young girl's room.

The fringe of Lucas's hair had fallen in to cover his eyes, while strands of snowy hair stuck to the sides of his gentle face. Despite this, his unreadable smile was still pasted on his face. "Let's go, Sven. We need to report this to Mother, soon."

The man named Sven watched the young lad as he marched away, but had not made any such attempt to stop him. He was right after all: they had to report in soon else Mother grew impatient.

Who would have known what things the eerie little girl—merely a wall's thickness away from him—could stir up in the world as it was?

_Not Mother. _A knowing grin crept unto his lips. _Someone else._ And Sven was going to be in the know, make no mistake about that. Whether this girl was a threat of greater destruction or—as they said—the very _answer_ to their problems, only time could tell. As for now, they were only to follow the orders given them by the First Mother.

_The orders given us by the First Mother…_

"What are you doing, Sven?" Lucas inquired, sounding more concerned than he wanted. His eyes turned cold as ice. "Hurry up, we have to get moving. I don't want to keep Mother waiting."

A small smile appeared inside of Sven, perhaps only he could handle this boy's so frequent mood swings, and he would like for things to remain that way.

_And we mustn't keep Her waiting at all. You will wake up soon. But as for now, enjoy your stay in the world of the dreaming… Riane Hartnett._

In a dome of pure white, two figures knelt before what appeared to be a statue of ice. Black light haloed the ice figure, and blue light softly illuminated the room. The figure belonged to that of a woman—like a goddess it appeared to be. With the lifelessly pale color of its majestic, superior face and its dead, empty eyes it stood tall and beautiful. Her lips were turquoise blue, and so were the majestic robes draped over her body. Although, her hair was pure white at one point… the turquoise hue did not let its tips go untouched by its beautiful shade.

Sven and Lucas had arrived before First Mother and brought her the news, Lucas seeming more of a child before her than any other time. Mother tolerated this each and every time, remaining motionless in the body she was encased in.

"_You have done well, my sons_," said a silky voice, the words bouncing off the perfectly curved walls such that they seemed to be coming from all directions at once. First Mother's voice was incomprehensively kind, suiting her title as _Mother_ quite perfectly well. Though despite this, her voice possessed much superiority, grace, royalty and a godliness that shook the earth and the sky. "_What is left now for us to do is to wait until the moment most opportune._"

"But mother, we are hungry!" cried the boy desperately, his eyes never leaving the unliving ones that belonged to the figure before him. "How long must we wait for your royal feast?"

"_Please, do not be impatient, my son,_" said the First Mother again, the kindness and calmness never leaving her voice for a moment. Her words did not come from her unmoving lips. Her figure remained utterly motionless, even as she spoke. But the two young men before her felt the gentle stroke of her hand upon their heads. "_The time is fast coming. But for now, we wait. Continue to watch over the vessel, that is my order._"

Without wasting another breath, both men left the sacred chamber.

Outside, the rain had refused to stop, and had instead only gotten stronger over their heads. The smaller boy kicked the ground beneath him, sending muck and mud splashing against the trees and the stones surrounding him.

"I don't get it! Why does mother persist on waiting?" he growled, digging his fingers into his hair in agitation. "We have waited for already so long just for that girl to wake up, endured so much to keep our kind alive before her wake, and when she does—WE DO NOTHING?!"

Sven merely adjusted the glasses on the bridge of his nose, that knowing grin still pasted on his face. Thunder cackled. "You should listen to what Mother says, Lucas," said the man mysteriously, fingers drumming on his arms folded across his chest. He was clearly amused at the boy's behavior. "We both know Mother _always _knows best."

Lucas had to agree with that; the boy was especially sharp about times when he was wrong. But it seldom happened, for the boy absolutely _hated_ to lose. He hung his head, pacing forward towards the thick of trees before him. He ignored it when Sven called his name, then fell to the ground on all fours. His fingers grasped at the ground, his nails digging into the grass, into the soil. "It's because of those wretched alchemists. Everything is their fault. Our kind suffers, and it's all because of them!"

Disgust was seen upon Sven's expression at the mention of the word 'alchemists.' Just the word sickened him. "Be calm, Lucas. Didn't you hear what Mother said? 'The time is fast coming.' All we have to do now is wait," he explained to the boy, a grimace slowly growing upon his features. "Those… _alchemists_… will eventually get what they deserve."

"I know," cried the boy in a strangled, breaking voice. "But that's just too long. Those monsters are taking everything I ever cared for!"

He knew what the boy was referring to; he knew that the boy was crying. Sven's lips parted, the smile never leaving even as he spoke.

"The real war has just only begun." began Sven, placing a hand on the poor boy's shoulder. Lightning flashed over head, sparked from the ground—blue fire began to lick all around them—the flames were quick to spread, almost as if alive.

Sven's eyes were cold, and Lucas's fists and bruised arms indicated that he had smashed them against the ground. The boy had his forehead against the grass now, knowing that the fire—quickly spreading and heading down the mountain towards the town—was a fire that could not be killed by rain, no matter how hard it fell. No matter what, mere water could never possibly kill _his _flame. Sven continued, eyes following the fast-moving fires with satisfaction.

"The main course of our feast, after all, is a dish best served cold."

Author's Notes: That's about it, I hope you all enjoyed this part of the story. And also, if you may, please **Rate** & **Review!**


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